No More Heroes: An Adaptation
by Proplayer
Summary: I throw my own self into the ring of video game adaptations with one for a game near and dear to me, No More Heroes. Join Travis as he attempts to escape from the boring monotony of every day life through the killing of many and the drive to become best.
1. 10 Helter Skelter and Death Metal

10 Helter Skelter and Death Metal

Meet Travis. Just your ordinary guy in his late twenties, rocking shades, a red jacket, and jeans. He's stepping out of his apartment, really a motel. It's named the No More Heroes Motel, but whether or not it's a statement of Travis' view of the world is really unknown, for lack of it mattering.

Travis walked across the open air hallway, whistling the latest thing to get stuck in his head as he near skipped down the stairs. He's excited; today he's got a mission. He proceeds to jump onto his very expensive and very coveted (only by him) scooter, the Schpeltiger. Honestly, it looks like a motorcycle at first glance but instead much cooler (his words, not mine). With a few revs, Travis barrels out of the parking lot, and soon he's on the highway out to kill somebody.

Why is Travis out to kill someone? Well, he's out of cash again. After going out to the video store to pay off some rentals he realized his pockets were empty because of the job he took last night. Travis lives a bit like a bum, but ever since he won his shiny new beam katana from a random internet auction, he's been heading out to the Deathmatch Bar, a place where guys like him can jump into the ring and beat a couple fellows for some cash. Weapons were allowed, but when you have a beam katana most other weapons fall kinda short, and Travis soon found himself with a lack of opponents, and thus, a lack of cash. It doesn't help that he went out a few nights ago and drank himself silly before realizing they still hadn't found any new opponents for him.

Arriving at the mansion of his target, he charges through the front gates, immediately jumping off his bike, pulling out his beam katana, the Blood Berry, and slashing off the heads of two guards, while yelling an appropriate (for him) battle cry: "Fuckhead!" You could literally hear the roar of applause.

Travis walked up to the front door where a single guard stood, peeing in his pants, seconds away from groveling but too chocked up on his own spit to get anything out besides a few wails. "Yo, help me out here. Where's this Death Metal dude?" The absolutely terrified guard actually works at this point to stammer out a few words, but still fails miserably. "Bad answer." The guard was shortly made into halves onto the floor, along with the door.

Walking in, Travis was met with a couple of other guards peeling down the staircases to meet him. They were outfitted with their own weapons, some with actual steel katanas, and others with beam knuckles over their fists. Travis smiled at the brawl waiting for him. "It's game time!"

Travis charged right ahead and cut the first guard in half, vertically, before he even realized Travis was moving. All the fights at the Deathmatch Bar had really helped Travis become stronger, faster, and quicker. You could almost believe he had had formal sword training (he hadn't). It didn't matter too much though, as the guards were extremely wary of Travis' Blood Berry, and their hesitations cost them. Travis quickly dispatched the group and charged in the direction from whence they came, upstairs.

Most of the second floor of the mansion seemed to be taken up by a large bathing room, with fountains and jacuzzis placed every which way. A guy could get used to a life like this, with a few less goons all over. Travis decided it was fine to jump in and get both feet wet as he slayed the few in there, but no Death Metal to be found. He quickly went up to the next floor.

There he found a large room filled with a hearth and many types of trophies. From displayed weapons to animal fur rugs, it was a very rich feeling place. And to top it all off it was filled with many trained guards who were waiting for him in ambush.

Travis didn't have a ton of experience fighting someone else who was actually trained with a sword, and fighting six at once was actually working against him. The swordsmen goons knew how to surround and attack from all sides, and Travis was forced to mostly block or else be pricked to pieces. And it started to make him impatient.

"This is the end!" Travis yelled. If there were too many to fight at once, he'd just need to move faster to hit them all quickly. One of the things that made Travis special, and is probably what caused him to be scouted for this mission, was the fact that he was able to channel his Inner Force. One of the first things he learned how to do was to concentrate and increase his speed and reflexes if under enough pressure, just like in anime.

A few seconds later, the room was cleared, but no Death Metal meant that he wasn't anywhere inside the mansion. However, there was a sizeable area out the back, as could be seen through the window, so Travis quickly headed back to the first floor and out through the main hallway.

Where he found a new type of guard; one with his own, low grade, beam katana. The man stood up, went into a fighting stance, and gave a look that screamed, 'bring it.' And Travis brought it. With a side of chocolate milk. "Strawberry on the Shortcake!" Travis yelled, energy flowing through his body overclocking his katana to the point where his opponent could not block it. A quick death blow later, Travis entered into a large ballroom, and felt very much like dancing.

Travis' most recent night at the Deathmatch Bar, where he had drunk himself into a near stupor, contained a chance meeting. A woman offered him a job. It was to kill a drifter. He found the guy and cornered him to a rooftop, where he unloaded dual magnums and rocket-loaded arm cannons. His name was Helter Skelter, and upon meeting him Travis "couldn't tell if he was 'the shit,' or just plain old shit." He was the first real challenge for Travis in a long while, and afterward the woman didn't mind giving Travis a generous prize. However, right after she offered setting up another fight for Travis, if he gave back the money and added a little extra as a set up fee. There'd even be a larger prize waiting for him. Feeling blood-thirsty, he quickly accepted.

Exiting out the back of the ballroom, Travis could see only one area left to the whole complex. The pool hall. The final guards stood behind a large locked door. One even had a small Uzi. Travis ducked the first few shots while charging at the nearest guy. Slicing him in half he spun around and caught the next guy easy. The final guy, with the Uzi, unloaded a clip while Travis rapidly flailed his sword around to deflect the bullets (when you have a shit scared guard and are close enough to negate the spread, the area you have to block is a lot smaller than you think). Travis, nearly satisfied, entered the pool hall and ran to quickly close the distance for his final fight, before his cell phone rang.

"Hey, Travis?" A female, distinctly Eastern European voice was heard. "Your ranked fight begins just up ahead. Win, and you will be 10th. Lose, and hell awaits. Are you up to this? Need a bathroom break? Whatever you need to do, do it now."

Travis couldn't quite place the voice. He also couldn't remember giving out his cell number recently.

"Your opponent, some call him the Holy Sword. He is good. But I know you can take him."

Travis was quickly running through the list of people in his head that would have his cell number. Bishop? He's a dude. Shrieking from the phone quickly distracted him from further thought.

"You are the man! Eye of the tiger! He only looks tough because his mother was an ugly bitch! Take it to the red zone! Assassin's way at full throttle! Unleash your power! Show no mercy! Bring me Death Metal's head!"

And then finally Travis remembered who she was.

"Enter when you are prepared to fight. I believe in you, and your force. Now, off to the Garden of Madness..." And the phone went click.

It was the lady who signed him up for this, giving her own brand of cheering. But he came here to win, and he was going to do it, no question to that. Walking down to the end of the pool hall, he took her advice and found an outhouse, checked his Blood Berry and its batteries, and found a mask with a note.

A mask? A luchador mask, a memory from Travis' earlier and wilder days as a pro-wrestler. In it, held a note from his master, a famed Japanese luchador, now retired, who taught Travis in the ways of a pro-wrestling champ. He had fought many foes, gained much fame, and was shining brightly, until an event in his life sent him into a sudden retirement. It looked like today, even his master was rooting for him, recalling for Travis one of his older, more beloved moves.

Now prepared for anything, Travis stepped through the door, and out to the open pool, overlooking the sea with a beautiful cliff side view. There was a man sitting by the pool, sipping a drink, while enjoying the view before him. Travis slowly walked over to him, down some steps. He knew the man was dangerous, a vicious killer who had to have done many dirty things to gain all he had now.

The man spoke. "Quite beautiful, wouldn't you say? Paid for with the lives of many. When you have the strength to take life for yourself; that is true wealth. I am free of desire. So long as I have this scenery to look upon, I need nothing more. Please, leave me be."

Pointing the de-powered Blood Berry, Travis decides to speak. "You're the one leaving... In a body bag."

The line only seemed to anger the man. "I'll only say this once more. Leave. Here. Now!"

"Me, leave? You obviously don't know me."

"You don't get it, do you?" He swirled his drink, a ring with a skull on his finger.

"Hey, you know what Paradise is, right?"

"Paradise?"

"This is Paradise," Travis told the old man, while waving his arm towards everything around, "the place where dreams are fulfilled. Well, you've had your dream old man. Time to wake up!"

There was a pause before the old man said anything more. "This is no Paradise."

"All right, then what is it?"

"A place to die." The old man said as he got up. His red robe fell from his body, revealing his large tattoos that cover from his chest, over his shoulders, on to his upper arms, and over the entirety of his back. Metal studs like flat capped silver tacks lined from the tip of his nose, up the bridge, and then left and right across the brows of his eyes. This was the man Travis was looking for, Death Metal.

"Hmph. I'm glad you and I are on the same page here."

"So naive..." Death Metal said as his hands reached his forehead. "You have no idea, do you? What a pity. You make an old man cry. Arrogant, crude little shits like you come around from time to time." He took a step back up the stairs Travis cautiously walked down moments before, and Travis chose to keep step. "Listen well, young one. The wall is high... Higher than you will ever know." His arm raised, an extremely large beam katana unfolded itself, his Holy Sword, known by few as the Orange II. "Ultimate sacrifice is sublime. Now draw." The top reached, the stage set, his katana pointed at Travis.

Travis aimed his katana as well, and it activated. Its low, dull, blue light looked pitiful next to the large black curved blade, incredibly thin yet at least six inches from front edge to back edge, and a handle similar to a butcher's knife. Its beam rested along the front edge, a tiny sliver of yellow. Travis, undaunted, pulls out one last line. "You can take that to your grave."

Travis charged. He figured he could possibly take Death Metal out quickly, and by surprise. Death Metal easily blocked, and Travis decided to press the advantage with many extra slashes, but he could not at all penetrate the defense. But Travis didn't care, he felt exhilarated, and as long as he pressed the advantage he could overcome. Thoughts began to crystallize in his head.

'_This count... I feel as if I'm looking at my future self._'Travis rained attacks in and again, hoping to win on speed. '_Mega bucks, big ass house, fast cars..._' Switching his stance up a bit, Travis tried again with lower aimed attacks, trying to work off the issue of balancing such a large sword. '_Dining in style with a world class chef and a trusty nutritionist counting every calorie._' A large, low slash flew seemingly out of nowhere from Death Metal, forcing Travis back. '_A team of hot yoga instructors to keep me in shape. Nurses to attend to my body..._' Death Metal began his counter attack, showing off his immense strength by wielding his own sword with the speed Travis wielded his. '_Maids and loyal servants at my beck and call. On the weekends, tanned babes knocking on my door every two hours._' Travis blocked, blocked, blocked, but the weight of the heavy sword finally sent him sprawling on the final hit. '_That'd be the life. Everything in its right place. It's the perfect life._' After a moment's breather, Travis pulled himself up and charged once again. '_It's the life for winners. That'll be my life!_' Death Metal neatly sidestepped, and his momentum allowed him to easily swing around his sword with Travis caught open. '_I thirst for selflessness. Hypocrites lusting for their own desires get killed by young rookies like me._' Travis managed to spin around in time to block, but with barely any balance left Death Metal pressed his own attack with another flurry of heavy blows. '_This is how it goes down. And for the old killers? They'll croak anyway._' One more blow blocked from Death Metal and Travis heard a terrible sound from his sword; the battery gave out.

Death Metal had had enough of seeing Travis flail about as an amateur. At first things were interesting, but now Travis was becoming quite pitiful to him. It was time to end things quickly and decisively. He spun quickly, unleashing his ultimate technique. Suddenly, there were three Death Metals, each with their own Holy Sword.

'_I guess you can call this a comedy. I realize there's nothing here for me, but what else can I do but keep going?_' Travis couldn't do anything other than run. The three attacked him and he managed to squeeze between them with a dodge roll, and then scrambled to the other side of the small fighting area. '_Maybe I should have been a little more careful before I jumped in._' Travis, with a moment's reprieve, started to try and kick start the batteries with a rapid shaking motion. Death Metal ended up giving extra time away as he watched Travis' strange pose, hunched over and moving his hand rapidly up and down. '_Gotta find the exit. Gotta find the exit to Paradise. But I can't see it. Can't see anything._' The moment didn't last long, as Death Metal quickly regained his composure and attacked with all three of him. At the last moment Travis got the Blood Berry back in working order, and spun around for a surprise slash, taking out one of the clones. '_There's this sense of doom running down my spine, like it's... like it's trying to suck the life out of me._' Travis clashed with the next one, pushing him away as he dodged a slash from the third. He now saw an opening, and was able to land a few glancing blows before a definitive slash across the midsection caused this clone to disappear. All that was left was the real one. '_I need to get rid of it before I bail._'

Death Metal was surprised by the sudden comeback, but didn't give it much thought. The fight felt nearly over to him still, and all he'd need to do is attack. '_Something deeper... deeper than my instincts is taunting me._' He launched another flurry of blows, and Travis was stuck blocking once more, and it shouldn't take long for a repeat malfunction. However, Travis succinctly pressured, managed a sudden dodge to the side during Death Metal's combo. '_Can't find the exit. Can't find the exit._' While he was open Travis quickly reached forward, tucked Death Metal's head under his arm while reaching for the waist of his pants, and with all the necessary part linked, flipped him over in a glorious suplex known as the Front Neck Chancery Drop. '_Can't find the exit. Can't find the exit._'

Pain escaped Death Metal's lips, and with the advantage gained, Travis quickly stood up to face his opponent while Death Metal ended up stumbling back a bit, dazed. Travis stepped forward to close the gap, but Death Metal preempted the attack with his own, another large swing. It, however, wasn't as low as usual, and Travis easily ducked under it and brought his own weapon up. Suddenly, the Orange II was spinning upwards before it embedded into the ceiling, Death Metal's hands still gripping the handle, although slipping off.

Blood spurting from his stubs, Death Metal was amazed at what the amateur had done. "Extraordinary. The moment I've been waiting for. The name 'Holy Sword' is now yours."

"You're joking, right? I don't care about titles or power. I just wanna be number one."

"Then master the ways of the assassin."

"Here's your ticket to Paradise, old man." And Travis finished the job with a quick slice through the neck.

Within moments, the sound of clicking heels was heard. Travis turned, and his sight was met two men in cleaner suits holding large gizmos with vacuums attached. Both were lead by the woman who gave him this job and called him earlier; Sylvia Christel.

"Nice kill, Travis. I didn't think you had it in you. It was rather..." She walked up to and then past Travis, before turning. "Exciting. Congratulations. You are now ranked 10th."

"Tenth, huh? What? Do I get anything?"

"Hmm... How about some cash? That should help you pay the bills." Sylvia walked over to the armless and headless body of Death Metal, pulling out a camera, and started snapping pictures.

"I'm not feeling the sense of accomplishment that I should here. So I just gotta do this a few more times, right?" The men activated their large backpacks, sending out a stream of chemicals through their nozzles at the corpse, as Sylvia continued taking pictures.

"If you so choose, yes."

"And will you keep your promise?"

"There is nothing the Association cannot do."

"And if I refuse?"

"As the 10th ranked assassin, you are now a target for those who want to replace you." The body was now just a bloody mess of goo and ashes, and the men now started mopping up the blood. Sylvia just went right along, still taking pictures of the corpse and the scenery. "Anytime, anywhere. Number 11 could be right around the corner, ready to put a knife in your eye."

"So what you're telling me is that I gotta continue fighting. There's no way out of this. You set me up, bitch!"

That caused Sylvia to whirl around and face Travis, camera still at the ready. "Quit your bitching, and get with the program. There's only one road out of here. No turning back."

Travis suddenly got a much better idea for compensation. "Ok, how about this? If I become number one, will you do it with me?"

"Mmm... Maybe... Maybe not..."

"C'mon! Just once!" Travis pleaded, with one finger up to emphasize.

Click. Sylvia took one final picture, of Travis' mug with a finger held out.


	2. 09 Sylvia Christel and Dr Peace

09 Sylvia Christel and Dr. Peace

Everyone had their morning ritual, and Travis was no different. The first thing he did every morning was put on some jeans, then take a shit, brush his teeth, and gargle. Then he'd check his landline, this time netting a conversation that was punctuated with "Am I ready? Anytime." With his activity for the day set, he'd head over to his closet, putting on a shirt, jacket, shades, and a handling glove. He'd then walk over to his bed, which had a drawer at the bottom of the frame, where he'd pull out his Blood Berry, give it a little spin, and then place it in its holster. Finally, he'd spin around to his room's centerpiece, a poster from his favorite anime series Pure White Lover Bizarre Jelly, and whisper to no one in particular, "moé."

Travis finally left his furnishings and walked through his living area. It was a small place, the door opening to a living area that wasn't very spacious, and made less so by Travis' many collectibles. One wall housed the doorway to the bathroom complete with a functioning sink, shower, and toilet, and another held the doorway to the bedroom, where all the things important for living were kept, outside of food. The living area itself had its walls painted a bright yellow, a large fold out chair staked out the middle pointed to a rather old wooden TV, with VCR and an old but empty gaming system. There was also a small couch, where a cat slept, a mini-cooler, and a large Gundam like figurine, about 4 feet tall, with a corner all to himself.

Stepping outside, Travis headed into the lot and could see a limousine blocking the only way out. They were expecting him. Stepping inside he jumped a little at the sight before him. A woman, blonde hair tied into two ponytails with the exception of two long bangs, a buttoned blouse with the first several buttons left open, her bra visible as if a fashion statement. A thin black scarf wrapped around her neck, acting like a choker, a black business jacket covered much of the blouse, with the exception of unbuttoned cuffs, and a black mini-skirt, grabbing Travis' attention immediately, completed the ensemble. She currently had a small mirror out, applying last minute make up. This was the woman that set everything up, Sylvia Christel.

"The next fight has been arranged." She started speaking with her thick Eastern European accent before Travis even thought about closing the door, but didn't spare him a glance. "You don't have a lot of time so I'll just tell you what you need to know." She punctuated this with a refolding of her legs, which Travis watched, transfixed, as the door closed and the car was off. "The ninth ranked assassin is currently... Dr. Peace."

She looked up at those last words, and Travis was broken out of his drool for a moment. "A doctor?"

"Actually, a detective. A dangerous and unscrupulous detective with plenty of dark secrets about him." As she talked, Travis took the opportunity to transfer to the seat next to her. "Illegal investigations... Illicit sales... Black marketing... He is your one-stop shop for marketing illegal goods. And on top of that, he is a trained assassin." Travis was still not paying attention. He was a full bodied male, with needs (at least he said that to himself) and couldn't keep his hands from inching towards Sylvia's exposed thighs. Sylvia, as if on cue, twisted her entire body so that she was facing away from him. "He's been doing work for the Mafia. And before you know it, he's up there, ranked ninth on the list. To be frank, he's good."

Travis still didn't know when to stop though, and reached at least for her knee. As he touched it, she quickly spun back around and kicked it up, landing a sharp blow right on his nose. He jerked back in pain as Sylvia finished up. "You won't stand a chance against him. You're as good as dead. So what's it going to be, cowboy?"

At the sound of a fight, Travis jumped up from his seat, at least as much as the ceiling allowed him. "Put me in, coach."

Sylvia then quickly pulled out a slip of paper, and it smacked against Travis' face to get him to sit back down, on the far side of the limo. "Alright, please transfer 150,000 LB dollars."

Travis jumped up again. "What? A 150,000 LBs?" Travis scanned the paper, and indeed it was an invoice billing him for that amount.

Sylvia was back to applying make up. "Your entry fee, my overhead costs..." Sylvia started to list off, but then started to get angry instead. "Don't tell me that you were not expecting so many zeros on that price or that I'm ripping you off or some shit." Travis, surrendered, sat back down next to her. "We have an elite staff in the thousands. Personally, I think it's a bargain." Her entire rant didn't include even a sideways glance at Travis, but she finally finished with her make up and closed her compact.

"Ok, I gotcha. But you really think I got that kind of dough on me?" Travis responded. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"You, are supposed to do your job. You've been hired to kill someone, so just do it and quit your whining." Then, her eyes sparked. "Plus, on-the-job training would be good for you. If you're interested, I can introduce you to an agent; an "advertisement agency." But really, they're erasers. I'll tell you where it is later." The car rounded a turn while Sylvia paused. She could see Travis needed a kick start. "I am running late for my facial. Catch up later, k?" She leaned back in her seat, and pulled her legs up.

Travis looked up. "What?" He looked up into two heeled shoes connecting solidly with his face sending him sprawling out the easy open door and out onto the sidewalk. He landed and quickly rolled back on to his feet, but by then the limo was already speeding away. He let out a roar of frustration.

Quite a mess he'd gotten himself into. That would pretty much use up all of the prize money he had gained from beating Death Metal, and then he would still need a bunch more cash. Sylvia mentioned something about an advertisement agency, but the only place he knew of in town that matched that description was a place called K-Entertainment, and he had never been there before. Looking around, he was about to set off back home to pick up his scooter when he realized that the very building he was standing in front of was the place he was looking for. A quick glance over to the corner allowed Travis to put the address of the place somewhere in his head for safe keeping, and he walked inside.

Inside waited for him a very basic looking lobby. Small chairs and tables were here and there for sitting and waiting, magazines on a rack in a corner. A woman held the reception, wearing a light gray blouse, white hair bristling like a startled hedgehog, and a black blindfold covering over her eyes. Travis was quick to talk her up.

"Why hello. My name is Travis Touchdown, and I should have a... recommendation."

"Are you a member?" The woman asked.

"Well, no, not yet. That's what I'm here for."

"Do you have an introduction ticket?"

"Um, no."

"Members only. We only need high-ranking assassins. If you don't have an introduction ticket, please leave now. We only offer work to those who have proven themselves as hard workers." Travis glared, but the woman showed no emotion, her blindfold enhancing the feeling of being brickwalled.

"Fine then. Later." He turned to leave, but then felt a tug on his jacket. He glanced back and saw the woman trying to give him a card. Grinning, he took it and set to leave.

"May you find your true path."

He may not have gotten a job, but it looked like he got a phone number instead. Maybe the day wasn't so bad after all. He pulled out his cellphone to save it quick, before realizing that there was no number, but instead an address. Travis recognized it; it was the address of the Job Center downtown. She felt so bad for him that she gave him this? Travis took back all of those thoughts of a lucky day.

Still, it didn't make sense to not spin by there and see what he could do for some cash. His motel was only a few blocks away, so he trotted over there and grabbed his scooter before heading down town.

The Job Center was kind of a run down place. It smelled, first of all, and the letters displayed outside, JOB CENTER, were beginning to fall off. Travis didn't had always avoided this place like the plague, but desperate times... Inside the reception area was very similar to K-Entertainment's Travis noticed. A man stood behind the desk in a black shirt with some design Travis didn't care to notice. He wore glasses and looked middle-aged. And he didn't look the happiest to see Travis. "Why are you here, third-rater?"

"I'm no third-rater, old man."

"This is a place where third-raters get together." He said, giving Travis a hard look.

"Yeah, well, I apparently got sent over down here by some bitch at K-Entertainment." Travis said, waving the card around that he got from the reception girl.

The man snatched the card from Travis and gave it a once over. "So you're a member." He said, sounding unsatisfied. "Well, I'll teach you some good stuff."

"Better than the crap you've made me do before?"

The man ignored that comment. "All first-raters in the world were once third-raters. So, third class is the first step up the ladder to first class." Putting the card down, the man went back to glaring at Travis. "Your life will change if you work here." He said in a serious tone.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just get me a job."

"I'll tell you one more thing. How do third-raters become first-raters? That's easy. They worked their damn butts off, 'til they were puking blood, and then worked some more! You wanna be a first rater? If so, just work hard! You chalk up jobs to survive in this town!" The man had gotten quite worked up throughout all of that, but finally calmed down. He passed to Travis a bit of paper. "I'll hook you up with some more work if you do this job well."

Travis grinned. He didn't expect to find something this easy. Barely skimming over the job description as he headed out, it looked like it paid well, something about delivering something and earning $2000 or so a pop. It wouldn't be so cheap per delivery unless he had a ton to do, so it was a question of how quick he could do it. He jumped on his scooter and headed off to the address, an area on the west side of town that acted like a small park over looking the beach. Parking, he noticed that it had gained a lot of palm trees since he last saw it. The old man was standing in front of a juice stand with his arms folded.

"The unspoken rules of Santa Destroy are OK... but the coconuts of Santa Destroy are more my thing! Coconuts from these parts fetch a high price. This town is built on coconuts! Coconuts are built on human life! Coconuts are God! So gather them now!"

Travis had tuned most of it out. The idea was get coconuts, but he had no way of getting them down. The trees were thin and slick, so climbing wasn't really possible. Travis couldn't jump for shit, so don't even ask. There was the Blood Berry, but he had sworn to his master he would never use a weapon in front of civilians. So, only one option was left. Travis walked up to the first of many trees he'd have to deal with, and started punching them.

Some time later, with bruised knuckles and feet (Travis alternated between punches and kicks mostly to look cooler while doing it), and tired arms (the old man made him carry them all back to the damn cart himself) Travis was done, and paid. All in all, he had earned a good $20k LBs, but it still was no where near enough.

"Hey, you third rater?" The old man said as Travis turned to leave.

"What else, old man?" Travis responded, irritated.

"I've got another job for you. Something a little... shadier, perhaps, but work all the same." That made Travis smile a little. "I've sent an introduction ticket on to my associate." He gave Travis back the card that K-Entertainment girl had passed. "The road to becoming a first rater is long and hard. Get your ass in gear!"

Travis rode back to K-Entertainment with triumph on his face. The receptionist welcomed him by name. A book with his name on it was opened with little jobs requested of him. Missions about killing. Assassinations. Exactly what he'd been looking forward to doing. Less boring and tiring and more bloodshed for big bucks.

Several hours later, evening now gripping the city, Travis finished the set of missions given to him, earning the $150k and some extra to spare. He headed home to shower and change, stopping by at the ATM to deposit his cash in the account specified on the paper Sylvia gave him hours earlier. Changed and refreshed, the only thing left for him to do was wait for a call from Sylvia to know when things were set up. He didn't have to wait long though, as he noticed that a message had come in while he was in the shower.

Pressing a button, the answering machine chirped. "Hey, Travis. The next fight has been prepared... Destroy Stadium. Dr. Peace is waiting for you. Hop to it." Travis hopped on his scooter and was on his way.

Destroy Stadium is an interesting place with an interesting story. Knowledge of this has no importance to the story I'm telling, but as some will necessarily ask, this is what can be easily said. Its players play in some unknown league with an unknown member count and it is unknown when most games are played. It is known, however, that a lot of players go in and out, so something does go on there. The general public is left relatively unknown to it, though.

Travis entered through the front doors into a large lobby area made for the passage of hundreds. It wound upwards around the building and allowed for people to reach the upper stadium seats. Right now, there were only a few guys in baseball uniforms wandering about, who didn't like the look of Travis walking in through that door. Travis tingled. He could feel the rush.

"Time to play ball!" Four guys quickly rushed around him, numbered 23, 79, 58, and 43. The first two carried bats, 58 felt like manning it up with fists, and the last one only brought a baseball to the cause. Number 23 stepped up to the plate first with his bat swung straight for Travis' head. Leaning back and watching as it passed safely overhead also allowed Travis to see 79 aiming an overhead swing. Travis returned to an upright position but was forced to duck to the right right as a left hook flew from 58. A beam bracer had been placed over his fists, meaning Travis had to pay better attention. He quickly stepped out of the entanglement the three baseball players were creating only to be forced to pull out his beam katana to block an unseen projectile. As it bounced away he could see that it was the baseball from 43, somehow crafted with a material heavy enough to not vaporize in the presence of a beam weapon. The bats were probably also made from the same heavy material. Travis was happy.

"Strawberry on the Shortcake!"

Travis was soon on his way, following the path of guards before him and leaving diced up bodies in his wake. Wrapping around the stadium he found himself on a new level, and as soon as he walked out a gate was closed behind him. Surprised, Travis looked ahead just in time to dodge a speeding baseball. Before him were ten pitchers, the leading one holding a baseball. The leader gave Travis a look, and Travis responded kindly, placing his feet, setting his shoulders, and preparing to receive.

The pitch! Travis swung! A hit! The ball flew through the air, bumping along the heads of every pitcher. With them all KO'd, the door to the dugout was revealed. Travis set his katana into its holster just as his phone rang. "Travis, hello?" It was Sylvia.

"The moment you step onto the field, the fight begins. If you win, you will be ranked 9th. If you lose, well, there's no need to go into that."

_'You got that right'_Travis thought to himself, as he rushed down the hallway. He was almost there, almost at the end, almost able to fully let loose.

"Need to pop a breath mint? Hit the restroom? Brush your teeth? When you're ready, step inside. To be honest, your chances of survival are slim. But trust your Force... And head for the Garden of Madness."

Travis closed his cell phone, and almost tripped over something on the floor. It was another luchador mask, and this one contained another note from his Master. 'Travis, you've made some progress.' It read. 'I caught he podcast that said you're getting your edge back. Do you remember your second suplex? A terrifying trip to the moon... the Reverse Armsault.'

Travis grinned. He was already gaining fame. Still, it reminded him to cool it a little. Rushing into things wasn't always the best medicine. He decided that he would use the restroom. Coming back out, feeling lighter and refreshed, he stepped through the doors and looked out onto the field.

_...her mother's eyes sees no more_

A deep baritone blew across the field as Travis stepped into the dugout area.

_When the wind blows _

_the virgin child's corpse sings a song_

_Such a pretty melody, never heard before!_

A man with brown hair, Native American tanned skin, grayish tan jacket, blue jeans, and two large golden revolvers in holsters on either hip stood at the pitcher's mound. A microphone was placed before him, instruments played from the speakers, and spotlights were all all pointing his way. He was singing as if to welcome a game... Too bad all the players were dead.

_No more, lullabies_

_The virgin child smiles from Hell!_

Travis clapped. He had to admit, the singing was good.

"Thank you. Mighty kind, mighty kind of you." Dr. Peace spoke with a deep Texan accent.

"Nice set of pipes you got there, old man."

"It has always been my dream to perform in a stadium such as this. A gentleman from the Association told me I could have any stage I wanted today. How could I refuse such a kind offer?"

"Courtesy of my entry fee, no doubt." Travis muttered to himself.

Dr. Peace, not hearing Travis' latest comment, started off on his own story. "My ex-wife called me the other day and I met my daughter for the first time in ten years. We dined at a fancy restaurant.. One of those that are impossible tog et a reservation for. Then afterwards, karaoke."

"Who got you the reservation?" Travis suddenly yelled.

"The Association took care of it, of course."

Travis went back to muttering. "Fuck! My entry fee."

"What's important is not the fact that the reservations are hard to get. In fact, no one 'gets' reservations. The words 'Reservations Only' apply only to those outside of the circle. It's getting into that circle that matters."

Travis couldn't let it go. "And the food? Good?"

"Unfortunately, the atmosphere was a facade. Not once did my own daughter look me in the eye. Oh, the food? Tasted like blood..."

Travis liked the sound of that one. "You're a junky for blood, old man." He started walking over towards the diamond.

"Sadly, I can't disagree. There's only one way to live. People like us... We're sharks attracted to blood. You smelled blood too, didn't you? Isn't that why you're here?"

Reaching home base, Travis pulled out his Blood Berry. "You got it old man. And for some reason, I feel this sense of, euphoria." The beam katana activated, and Travis assumed the position.

"Don't die on me too quickly. I want to gorge myself on this sense of fulfillment till I vomit." Dr. Peace slowly pulled out one of his magnum revolvers and eyed Travis dangerously.

"Man! This is what I live for. Fighting your own kind... Nothing's more gratifying." Travis raised up stick and waved it, signaling his readiness to receive.

Peace cocked his gun. "See you on the other side."

One would think that Travis would be afraid of a gun firing at him, but the truth was that his reflexes were quite formidable. He swung with everything he had and managed to connect solidly with the bullet. At that moment, the custom tipped bullets reacted with Travis' katana, sparked by the force of the two colliding. An explosion was the result, and Travis was flung against the far wall.

Peace grinned. This would be easy. He only had had time to get a few of those bullets before the match, but those few bullets alone should scare Travis away from using his beam katana effectively against him. Pulling out his other magnum, he fired, aiming for the head. Travis quickly picked himself back up and dodged to the side before charging straight at Peace.

Peace fired, fired, fired, fired. But Travis bobbed and weaved, not slowing. Peace switched to his other magnum and fired one more of those specialty bullets. Travis, in response, flipped into a baseball slide and let the bullet pass over his head. He was now in range of Peace, and he swung from the ground just as Peace firing another specialty round.

Another explosion. This one sent Travis rolling across the ground while Peace was knocked off his feet for a few feet. He could feel the rest of the specialty bullets exploding in a chain reaction while still in chamber of his gun. It took pure grit to keep the gun from flying out of his hands, but he held on as he fell.

Peace got up, and saw Travis slowly getting up himself. Peace ran back over to the pitcher's mound, the extra bit of high ground advantage would help, and reloaded both guns. With his strategy failed, he switched back to his bread and butter techniques, amplified by his custom made revolver. Travis, up again, charged at him while Peace started firing just as Travis almost reached him, twelve bullets shooting rapid fire as Travis was forced to stop. Peace aimed for all vital organs and limbs, but Travis amazingly moved his hands like a blur and blocked every single shot.

Peace tried to reload but Travis was too close, and knocked the gun he was reloading up into the air with such force that his katana flew up with it. Peace was stunned with surprise that Travis had thrown up his weapon, but before he knew what was going on, he found his head tucked in and his arms linked with Travis', before he was pulled into the air, up, over, and under Travis. Travis' specialty Double Underhook Suplex, the Reverse Armsault, knocked the wind completely out of him.

The two men laid there for a moment, Travis exhausted from the explosions, Peace from suplex. Pulling themselves to their feet, both looked at each other for a moment before Peace pulled out his other revolver. He didn't shoot. Instead, he gave it a quick spin on his finger, and then holstered it. Travis understood, picked up his Blood Berry, turned it off, and spun it into his own holster. A single, final quick draw would decide this fight.

"Don't kid yourself." Peace spoke.

"Playtime, is over." Travis responded.

Peace reached first, pulling out his gun. In a flash, the microphone from the forgotten stand was sent flying through the air. Travis was there, weapon out, and had slashed across Peace's gut before he could fire a single shot. Blood started pouring out of the sudden hole in his body. He could feel his strength quickly fading as the pain forced him to his knees. The match was over.

Travis picked up the fallen microphone, and knelt so that Peace could speak his final words.

"Next song I sing, I know my daughter will love. Won't you, darling?" Peace coughed, interrupting himself. Blood spurted up. No much time was left. "Better practice my rap. Rap with me, Jennifer..." And with those words, what was left, left him.

Travis brought the mic back towards himself. "It's open mic night in hell, old man. Sing all you want down there." Travis placed the mic into Dr. Peace's hand, and stood up, and walked away.

The speakers crackled with another voice. "Congratulations. You are ranked number nine." Sylvia walked out from the dug out, along with her two clean-up men.

"What'd you expect?" Travis said stiffly, walking past her.

"Wait a minute. Are you getting a little sentimental? Still green aren't you? You know this is only the beginning."

Travis kept walking towards the door. "Call me when the next one's arranged."

Sylvia smiled. That's what she wanted to hear. "Game set!"


End file.
